


Self Care

by GealachGirl



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Dual Point of View, Establishing relationships, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Overstimulation, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 03, it's pretty domestic tbh, kid Matt, magic or ghosts or miracles it's up to you, personal and interpersonal growth, practicing with the senses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-25 22:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17734115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GealachGirl/pseuds/GealachGirl
Summary: Matt learns the value of taking care of himself and Foggy realizes why Matt has never been specific when he’s talked about his childhood.Featuring: ruined plans, growth beyond emotional baggage, lots of talking, pancakes, and blind jokes.





	Self Care

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the age/timeline stuff might be a bit screwy re:canon, but I don't think it affects the story. 
> 
> Asterisks denote time jumps.

The morning had started out normally enough. Matt had woken up warm, tangled in his sheets and Foggy. He’d gone to the kitchen to make coffee and contemplate breakfast. Foggy had followed about fifteen minutes later, accepted the mug Matt had made for him and they’d discussed the merits of eggs vs toast vs going out.

Everything had been following the same pattern it always did on the nights Foggy slept over.

Then Matt had heard something that made him freeze and his body release a healthy helping of adrenaline. Foggy had startled when he’d marched to the door without warning, but Matt had barely heard his questions over the thundering of his own thoughts and disbelief.

This wasn’t something he could explain anyway.

“Okay… this is,” Foggy rubbed his hands over his face, coffee forgotten on the counter. “I don’t even know what the hell to call it. There isn’t an adjective strong enough to describe this and that really makes all of this that much worse.” His heart was going a mile a minute and he hadn’t breathed normally since Matt had opened the front door.

But he was powerless to calm him down because he felt the same way. Leave it to Foggy to know how to express world-shattering panic.

The other Matt — smaller, younger — wasn’t faring much better.

“Holy shit. Did you, did you piss off a witch or a demon or a sorcerer?” Foggy asked, his voice climbing. “My God did you get mixed up in something the Avengers should be handling? Because we’ve talked about that, dude, how there are some things you really shouldn’t touch. And Jesus, is this going to fuck up the timestream or something?”

“Foggy,” Matt said quietly, and he held a hand up to his friend to stop his babbling. He had to get a handle on the situation.

Across from him, the other Matt was terrified, and he knew he’d hunched his shoulders and ducked his head, trying to make himself smaller. His heartbeat — Matt’s heartbeat, echoing in two chests — was fast and shaky, and it had been so long since Matt had felt like that himself it was bringing up long-repressed memories.

But then, that was sort of exactly what the other Matt was.

“Matt?” he said softly, focusing on his younger self, his fear and what was probably the urge to run away and hide. He was remembering now how strong that impulse had always been when he’d felt like this, and just how constant that had been. “Matt you need to breathe. Foggy, you too.”

He tried to ignore how weird this was and how unbalanced he felt with the echo. Everything he heard and normally filtered out was duplicated now, from his heartbeat to his breathing to the smell of his skin, and impossible to overlook.

The younger Matt’s were faster because of his age and size, but his heart was beating the same rhythm and cadence Matt knew as his own. That was how he could tell all of this was real.

Slowly, so slowly, the younger Matt evened out. And Foggy seemed to have gotten a grip, sounded more like he did in the courtroom, where he managed his nerves by wielding them. He’d softened, too, as the other Matt uncurled and Foggy seemed to process how freaked out the kid was.

“Alright,” Foggy said after a deep breath. “We can deal with this.”

He might’ve said more, but the other Matt interrupted in a small, tight voice. “Who are you?” Matt could still hear the thread of fear in his system under the heat of warning in his voice. He sounded ready for a fight. Absently, Matt wondered what the echo was like for the other one. If it was as disorienting.

Foggy’s exhale was shaky and Matt wished he could see his face.

“I’m you. Grown up. And he’s our best friend,” Matt answered. “Foggy Nelson. We...meet him in college.” He wasn’t sure how much about the future to reveal, but that seemed safe. He’d always planned to go to college, and surely it couldn’t hurt to give this younger self the knowledge that he’d have a friend there. And, thank God, it seemed like the kid believed him.

“It’s Franklin, really. But I’ve refused to go by that since I was about your age because I can’t pull it off,” Foggy said. His heart stuttered again. “You’re kind of smiling and it’s as cute now as it always has been,” he narrated, directing it at Matt, who could hear the wondering smile in Foggy’s voice.

“Oh, that brings me to the next order of business. What should we call you two? I refuse to call you Other Matt, so Mini Matt? Matty?”

“No.” The other Matt’s voice was sharp and he sounded like he wasn’t smiling anymore. His heartbeat had picked up again, and Matt realized the last person who probably called him that had either been Stick or his father. Judging by the way he held himself and the fact that he could stand still, this version of him had met Stick by now.

“How about Matthew?” he suggested. That’s what everyone else called him. He could sense his younger self’s head tip toward him, and, after a pause, nod once. 

“Matthew it is then,” Foggy said. “And I’ll just keep calling you Matt,” he directed the last part to him, then turned his attention back to the younger one. “Do you want anything to eat? Unfortunately, your adult self thinks he’s too cool for groceries so there isn’t much for food, but I can go out really quick.” Matt knew the kid was hungry, he was always hungry, but he would never say anything about it. Matt nodded at Foggy.

“Wait, you would do that?” Matthew’s voice was heavy with disbelief, and in his shock, he dropped some of the venom. Matt winced at the memory of the first time Foggy offered to do something for him — to pick up his coffee from the counter, and then to help him get his books at the Columbia bookstore so Matt was sure they were the right ones.

Foggy’s voice sounded just as sad now as it did then. “Of course I would, buddy.”

 

He got bagels, from the place around the corner from Matt’s apartment. Foggy had ordered one of everything because he hadn’t thought to ask what the little — no, _Matthew_ preferred, and he wasn’t sure he would have gotten an answer anyway.

The poor kid was obviously overwhelmed and on edge, and Foggy’s heart broke just watching it. Knowing this had been Matt.

It was hard for him to tell, but Matt had confirmed Matthew was about twelve, and it was taking Foggy a moment to remember this was a Matt who hadn’t developed in either the good or the bad ways his Matt had.

He’d felt torn about leaving them alone together, and then he’d realized he was being stupid. Besides, giving the two of them alone time was probably a good thing. Matt could convince Matthew they wouldn’t hurt him and that they were real. He seemed much more willing to listen to Matt.

It was certainly good for Foggy, who’d expected a normal Saturday morning after staying over at his maybe-boyfriend’s. They’d only done it a few times, on a few weekends, but like everything else with Matt, it had been easy to fall into a rhythm.

And then things had gone the way they tended to when your best friend and maybe-boyfriend was a super powered crimefighter with a tragic backstory.

He was a little surprised they’d lasted this long before something had. Nelson & Murdock 2.0 had been chugging along for a few weeks and going incredibly well before Matt had cornered him in their office — right between closing and the late-night dinner rush. He’d been wearing his new “I’m going to be completely honest” face and stumbled through an admission of his feelings, now that it wouldn’t be overshadowed by secrets and fear. (“We’ve been through so much and I don’t want to miss out on the opportunity of having this,” he’d said, hands fidgeting with a pen.) By the end, he’d looked ready to be turned away.

It was the first time they’d kissed, and they’d spent the last couple of weeks wading carefully into this new territory, aware of the places to tread lightly, but both invested in making it through. And it had been going _so well_. Foggy felt like they were closer and more open now than they’d been since their first napkin, and he hadn’t expected it to be so easy once they started working through things.

When he got back to the apartment, Foggy let himself in and heard Matt speaking in his “soothing clients” voice. “Trust me kid, I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you. I promise it works, just try again,” he was saying.

Matthew was standing by the windows, his small fists clenched and his head bowed. His jaw was clenched and there was a rigidity to the set of his shoulders that Foggy knew too well. At some point, Matt had put on a T-shirt and he was faced toward Matthew with his arms crossed over his chest.

As Foggy rounded the corner into the kitchen, the kid’s head popped up and followed him instead. Matt sighed and Matthew flinched and apologized, scrambling back into his previous stance.

Foggy watched Matt’s face twist, his eyebrows rise and then pinch together.

“It’s fine, Matthew. We can take a break,” he said, reaching out to his younger self.

“No, I can do it. I’m sorry, just let me try again.” The frantic, hard note in his voice made Foggy’s heart squeeze in sympathy, and it was hard to tell if the clenching of Matt’s jaw was about that or about Matthew, or about the memories it undoubtedly brought back.

They were going to have a long talk when this was all over.

“Matthew, you’ve only been blind for three years, I’ve been managing all of that sensory information for twenty,” he said reasonably. “It’s okay that you weren’t able to filter through everything the first times you tried.”

Foggy’s eyebrows lifted at the same time Matthew’s head snapped up to stare in Matt’s direction. Somehow, this was only slightly less surprising than seeing a twelve-year-old Matt Murdock in the grown-up one’s living room.

Matt must have noticed the incredulity because he had his baffled face on. Then he turned his focus on Foggy and the frankly absurd box he was holding.

“You bought all of the bagels?” he asked, very clearly changing the subject. Matthew’s nose was working, too, and that seemed to be what finally snapped him out of his self-flagellating.

“You bet your ass I did,” Foggy replied, opening the box and setting it on the counter. He noticed the language in the next moment and flushed, especially when Matthew frowned at him like he was confused and Foggy remembered he was twelve. But he soldiered on. “Everyone deserves choices and I know how you are with those, so the two of you get all of them. Come over and grab some carbs, Matthew, you look like you could use them.”

Matt had already picked out his second favorites and Matthew was carefully surveying the remaining ones for his real favorites: cinnamon sugar, asiago and plain.

“Did you buy all of the cream cheese, too?” Matt asked with a shitty grin. Foggy sighed and held up the ridiculously large brown paper bag. It landed on the counter with a solid-sounding thud and Foggy could hear the little tubs topple over each other inside. Matt cackled and started his ritual of pulling out each one and sniffing it to find what he wanted.  

Matthew was quiet, accepting the cream cheese Matt handed him without a word. He was eating carefully, lingering while he chewed, and Foggy wondered if it was a senses thing. But he looked thoughtful, like he wanted to say something, and Foggy suspected he wasn’t going to speak up without prompting.  

Then he was surprised.

“What do I look like now?” Matthew asked, thin shoulders squared, chin tilted up so Foggy could almost swear he was making eye contact. Matt usually never got that close.

“As a twelve-year-old or at twenty-nine?” Foggy asked, spreading cream cheese on his own strawberry bagel.

“Both, I guess.” And now that it seemed like he’d get what he wanted, Matthew sounded eager. Foggy glanced at Matt, who shrugged as he pulled his bagel apart and reached out for a knife.

“Okay,” Foggy tried to think of what a twelve-year-old Franklin Nelson would want to know, and crossed his fingers. “Well, you have a lot of muscles now. It makes up most of your body weight. You can also grow wild facial hair, but you mostly keep it scruffy. It’s a little darker than the brown on your head. Your jaw squared out and your shoulders are broad. I remember seeing pictures of your dad and you look a lot like him, now. Oh, you get different glasses, and that actually changes your face way more than I realized. They’re round and red-tinted.” Foggy trailed off there when he realized he couldn’t mention any of the scars or how much he looked like his mom too. And it felt weird basically objectify Matt to his younger self. “Overall, you’re pretty easy on the eyes,” he finished lamely.

Matthew frowned a little at that and tilted his head to the side. Listening in a way he hadn’t learned how to mask yet. But he seemed satisfied by the description.

“You mostly look like all other twelve-year-old boys. You’re a little gangly, thin, though you’ve got some muscle. Your hair’s kind of floppy. I can’t see your eyes, but I’d guess they’re just as wide as when you’re older.” His teeth were a little too big for his mouth in a cute way, and he looked frustrated, now, his eyebrows drawing low over the top of his glasses.

“You’re holding yourself steadier,” Matt said softly. “So, the training has worked. Like Foggy said, you’re stronger now. I don’t remember exactly what it was like at twelve but I know you don’t have full control of the senses yet. You get there, and you’re already better than you were at nine. I can tell you’re able to map this space, and you’re filtering out most of the city,” Matthew looked lighter. “Your heartbeat will slow down as you get older and the more you train. Navigating will get easier, so the cane is more useful than necessary. Someday you’ll find people you’re comfortable with seeing your eyes.” 

“The fire?” Matthew asked, voice small.

“It doesn’t go away, but you learn how it works and then it’s useful,” Matt said, and there was a sad note to his voice. Foggy had tried to imagine the “world on fire” before, but from the point of view of a Matt who’d lived with it for years and looked frustrated at having to call it that. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like for a kid.

Matthew nodded and his face tilted down toward the floor. “Thank you,” he whispered. Foggy couldn’t tell what he was feeling, but a glance at Matt’s face suggested he did.

They ate in silence until Matthew’s nose wrinkled when Foggy made it to the jalapeño bagel and it must have registered somehow because Matt laughed.

“You get used to that, too,” he reassured.

 

Foggy cornered him when Matthew was in the bathroom.      

“He can probably still hear us,” Matt warned. He could hear everything, all at once, but Matt was almost sure he had the control to focus on him and Foggy. And that he’d probably do it.

“Fine. Just tell me what we’re supposed to do about this. Like, should we go get him some other clothes? Or should I actually go for groceries?” Foggy asked. “Don’t say it, I know you don’t know what’s going on either, I’m just at a loss here.”

And he sounded it. Matt hadn’t heard him sound this sad and unsure since he’d reappeared to Foggy in a bar only to warn him away from Fisk, and, before that, since the closing of the firm, when the ground underneath them had been cratered and split.

Matt had always avoided talking about his past for this reason. It wasn’t a happy story, and he didn’t feel like it was fair making Foggy shoulder it, too. Especially now when it was a literal, present thing.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and he got the feeling he was being frowned at.

Matthew came back before Foggy could say anything.

“So, is there anything you want to do? Or somewhere you want to go?” Foggy asked shifting his attention, and his voice was too bright, the accompanying smile lost on the kid who’d hunched into himself again.

“I don’t know,” he answered, shrugging. He was tense, though, and Matt could taste a hint of salt in the air. If he focused on it, he could smell it and hear how Matthew’s throat had tightened, and he could feel the way he was shaking, so minutely he barely disturbed the air. He sounded lost. His earlier grip on his self-control was slipping.

Matt gritted his teeth against the onslaught of memories, and he tried to put himself back in the mindset of being twelve. How he would have felt and what might have helped him. “I have an idea,” he said, burying his own rising thoughts and moving toward the closet and the trunk inside.

“Matt, what —” Matt flapped his hand at Foggy to shut him up. He wasn’t going to show Matthew the Daredevil suit.

“Come here,” he told his younger self as he lifted something else out and offered it to Matthew’s reaching hands.

Immediately the kid sank to his knees with a sharp gasp and a broken-off sob. He clutched at the silk of Jack Murdock’s robe like he could touch the real man. Matt heard him trailing his fingertips over the lettering and found himself rubbing a corner of the hem between his fingers. He was able to visit the cemetery now whenever missing his father became too much, so it had been a while since he dwelled on the material things he’d been left behind.

Matthew didn’t have any of it.

“I know everyone tells you to move on, to not dwell on the past,” Matt said quietly, giving into the overwhelming urge to put his arm around Matthew’s shoulder. “And people are going to keep telling you that. The nuns, the foster families, the social workers. Father Lantom’s always going to be nice about it, but he’ll do it, too. And people are always going to try to pry. About the accident and the blindness and about Dad.”

Matt took a deep breath, and he heard Foggy’s unsteady breathing behind him, just a little closer, but still giving them space. He focused on that, and he remembered the joy that was getting to know Foggy Nelson, who had never pushed him about the deeply personal things in Matt’s past, despite knowing the bare basics. He’d never pressured him to put the past behind him or to relive everything by talking it out.

Even after ten years, he’d never asked Matt for any part his childhood story he didn’t want to give. He hadn’t even met Jack, yet.

“But,” Matt continued, and Matthew had leaned into him at some point. “It won’t be like that forever. You’re going to meet people who don’t want all the details of the kid who was tragically blinded and whose father was murdered. Those people won’t tell you what to do with your feelings. On the anniversary, they won’t ask where you disappear to for hours, they’ll just offer their company when you come back. And they’re not going to run off when you show them that you feel something, even the ugly things. They’ll become home.”

Matthew’s breath was faster and his heartrate had ticked up. He sounded like he wanted to believe it, and like it was terrifying. “But Stick —”

Matt swallowed hard. That brittle way he said his name meant he’d left by now. He didn’t know if Matthew was closer to eleven or thirteen, but now he had an idea.

“You’ll figure out that Stick’s full of shit, too,” he said through clenched teeth. This didn’t feel like dangerous information, either. Matt remembered thinking it way back then, he just hadn’t internalized it, and telling Matthew wasn’t going to hammer it home any faster.

As long as he could offer the promise of people like Foggy, and Karen, Jess, Luke, Danny and Claire, that felt like he was doing something for his younger self.

“Do you want to try filtering through your senses again?” he asked, and he felt Matthew nod against his shoulder. Nothing fixed feelings like distracting yourself from them, and it was the least he could do. If the only thing he gave Matthew was comfort for the future and a way to manage his present, that would be enough.

 ***

“Well. That was informative,” Foggy said carefully, folding up the newspaper he’d been reading out loud while Matt talked Matthew through tuning out the world to focus on specific things. Foggy had tried meditating before, but somehow the way Matt explained it made it actually click.

He was also talking about Matthew and the fact that he’d passed out on the couch shortly afterward. Matt hadn’t seemed surprised, just adjusted one of the pillows so it was more comfortable. Matthew was curled up on his side and he looked peaceful as he finally got away from the world. Nothing seemed wrong.  But Foggy was still a little freaked out, and Matt kept telling him not to worry.

“It’s the overstimulation,” Matt said. “You remember in college how I sometimes kind of shut down? I called them migraines because it was close enough to what I was feeling?” Foggy nodded. “When I was younger it could knock me out like this because I couldn’t process everything, and it got literally overwhelming.” He smiled wryly, the way that made it hard to tell if he was being dry or covering up his feelings. “Scared the nuns and foster homes, too.”

So, it was the second one.

“Does that still happen? The overstimulation?” Foggy wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted to hear and the look on Matt’s face didn’t make him feel better.

Matt sighed and rubbed his neck while he tipped his head. “Sometimes. Not as often anymore, and I don’t think it affects me as much.”

Foggy made a noise for him to go on. Because his world had been collapsing at the same time, he felt like he’d missed a lot about how Matt perceived the world the first time he’d heard it. Now, with a whole helping of perspective, he wanted to know more. Felt like he should. Privacy issues aside, it _was_ kind of cool.

What was it like to hear heartbeats and identify people by them? And how did he live when he felt everything from the intensity of sunlight to the vibrations in the air when someone moved? Foggy knew now what sex was like for him, but he’d never really asked about what happened inside Matt’s head.

“I still get headaches, but I’ve gotten better at compartmentalizing and not getting carried away by all of the stimuli,” Matt’s mouth twisted in frustration like he wasn’t finding the right words for what he wanted to say. “I don’t know, I’ve just adjusted. It’s like anything you have to live with, and I’ve had twenty years to figure it out.”

“So what does it look like now?” Foggy asked.

“I call in sick, put on those noise cancelling headphones playing white noise and move as little as possible.” He didn’t have to say that he didn’t eat on those days, Foggy could fill in that blank. “It’s — it’s like a big wave of information that’s just crashing over my head, and I can’t think past it. I just have to center myself and stay anchored there until it passes. Sometimes it’s only a few hours. Sometimes it’s a full day.”

Foggy thought of how lost Matthew had looked earlier, before Matt had shown him Jack’s old robe because he’d known exactly what Matthew needed, because he had experience. Foggy imagined him now, sitting on his couch and starving as he tried to hold onto himself in the wake of everything he could sense. He hadn’t expected to have his heart broken all day when he’d woken up.

Matt was frowning at him, and Foggy had to wonder if that was audible, too.

“There are good things, too, right?” Because this was what Foggy did. If there wasn’t a silver lining, he would fucking build one.

Matt’s face melted into a smile. “Absolutely. You have no idea how great music can sound. Or how Jameson tastes.” His voice got a little softer. “Or how you interact with all of my senses.”

Foggy swallowed his racing, swelling heart. “I have a feeling if I could do what you can, it would be _you_ I was obsessed with.” He was pretty fond of what he did sense when they were together. “Sometime we’re going to go do something and I’m going to have you narrate,” he said.

And Matt was smiling again. “Sounds like a date.”

Foggy smiled a little, but he wasn’t sure it was enough.

    

The sound of Foggy’s sadness was echoing in Matt’s head and he hated it. He hated that he was always the reason. He’d wanted a nice Saturday, wanted a chance to be with Foggy in this new way they’d fallen into. In trying to juggle the firm re-opening and avoid letting anyone in on this change in their relationship — just until it wasn’t so new; it was such a drastic change after a lot of issues and they weren’t sure anyone else would understand — they usually only had weekends completely to themselves.

But instead, Foggy was worrying over a younger version of him that Matt had never really wanted him to know about. Because he wasn’t that kid anymore, and he didn’t want Foggy to think of him like that. He didn’t want him to _see_ him like that.

Still, for some reason, Matt couldn’t bring himself to hate this younger, more vulnerable Matt who, at twelve, was still learning how to control his feelings and his senses and his life. Matthew didn’t need Matt’s hatred on top of his own.

“You can go,” Matt said. “You don’t have to deal with all of this.” Foggy scoffed and Matt heard the familiar angry and offended spike of his heartrate. And God, he didn’t want to fight.

“I’m serious,” Matt insisted. “I know you care and that you want to help. But I know you don’t like seeing this, either. I’m just saying you’ve got an out if you want it.”

“Matthew Murdock,” Foggy started. “You’re one of the most important people in my life, and you shouldn’t have to relive all of this alone. I’m a big boy, I can handle seeing things I don’t like, especially when it’s not about me.” His voice was hot, not angry just forceful, and his heart had kicked up to a slightly faster, but still steady, beat. He meant it and if Matt tried to argue, he was just going to dig his heels in.

“Okay. I just wanted you to know that I don’t just _expect_ you to do this,” he said, practically pleaded.

Foggy went quiet and Matt knew that meant he was getting an expression. Probably a sad one given that Foggy didn’t narrate it. “I know you don’t, Matty. But I want you to know that I’d do anything for you.”

“Foggy —”

“No, I need to say this,” Foggy insisted, so Matt held his tongue. “I know you’ve gotten the short end of the stick for most of your life, and I know your entire childhood fucked you up. And I know I haven’t always been the best about listening.” His voice was so earnest, all of his feelings served up right there for Matt to hear.

“I’m your best friend and your partner and maybe something more than that, so, I have your back. I want to share your burdens, even if they make me want to go back in time to hug you and beat up everyone who hurt you. I want to help you when you’re overstimulated. And I want to hear about things like how awful the city smells in the summer, or what you think of the texture of your deli meat or the taste of the beans in your coffee. I don’t care what your asshole mentor told you would happen if you were honest about that stuff because I’m all in, buddy.”

Foggy’s heartbeat echoed _true, true, true_ in Matt’s ears, and he smelled the slightest hint of salt, not enough to indicate that he was crying, just that he had tears in his eyes. Matt’s breath caught in his chest and he wasn’t sure how to respond.

Logically, he’d known all of that. The facts matched up, and he’d felt it before now, especially in the past couple of weeks as they took their relationship to new places. Foggy’s feelings were there in every kiss and every brush of his skin. But it was another thing entirely to hear it put into words. For the sentiment to be so explicit.

Foggy came closer, heart beating strong, but nervous. Matt could taste their breakfast and Foggy’s nerves, could smell the combination of himself and Foggy’s natural, underlying scent on their clothes. A gentle hand settled on his shoulder and pulled him into a warm, solid hug where Matt could feel Foggy’s heartbeat against his own.

“I’m here for you, buddy, and I want to be here for all of it. Nothing can scare me out of your life at this point, not even your demons.” Matt choked on a laugh, and he felt Foggy’s cheeks twitch with a smile that he pressed to the side of Matt’s head.

 

After all of the confessions, Foggy really wanted to focus on anything else, and his prayers were answered when Matthew finally stirred. He looked better, more relaxed and maybe a little bolder, which did wonders for Foggy’s emotional state.

Matt was puttering around in the kitchen making more coffee, so Foggy smiled at the skinny kid on the couch, and patted the back of it.

“Hey bud,” Matthew’s head tipped toward him, and, just like now, his face without his sunglasses was incredibly vulnerable. With how close the kid came to meeting his eyes, Foggy was almost surprised to see the same searching blankness. “How’re you doing?” Foggy asked, reining himself in. “Did the wave go back down?”

Matthew seemed surprised Foggy called it that, but then some of the tension melted out of his shoulders and his face softened. He nodded eagerly, because he was only twelve and he hadn’t learned to slam a lid on his feelings, yet. “I feel a lot better.” He went quiet and contemplative for a second, but just before Foggy could ask, he lifted his head again. “I think I want to explore more.”

From the kitchen, he saw Matt tip his head in interest, and that was when Foggy realized Matthew was talking to him.

“Okay…like what?” he asked. Foggy wasn’t sure how he felt about taking him around modern Manhattan, and with all of the day’s surprises he really didn’t want any others.

Matthew shrugged and “looked” around the apartment. “Here? There’s a door to the roof, right? I want to go up there and you can tell me what the city looks like now.” His face was bright and eager and Foggy couldn’t say no to it. Never could, and especially not in light of the day.

He glanced at Matt, who had the strange expression on his face that Foggy only recognized from any time he sincerely complimented him or told him how much he mattered. Matthew was still smiling, not a full grin anymore but it was still happy. It made him feel warm.

“Sure thing,” he replied, grinning at the idea. “I know you’ve mapped all of this out or whatever you do, but I give excellent color commentary.” Matt nodded and made a humming sound, he was also smiling softly now, the way that made Foggy happy just looking at it.

Christ.

He felt something else, too. He already had a plan for what he could do to lighten the mood, maybe give Matthew something fun to do. But that Matthew was asking him for something — something only Foggy could do — that trust was incredibly gratifying.

“You know what the roof is like,” he said over his shoulder to Matt. “So, you get to keep making coffee, and go to the store for dinner ingredients, my friend.” It was hard not to call him Matty, but he wasn’t sure the little one wouldn’t answer to it.

“Oh, really?” Matt sounded amused and there was more ease in his shoulders than had been there all day. Foggy hadn’t been sure if Matt would leave him alone with Matthew, but he didn’t seem to have a complaint yet. “You’re going to make me navigate the store and all the labels I can’t read by myself while you traipse around rooftops without me.”

“I think that sums it up,” Foggy chirped.

“Come on, let’s go,” Matthew insisted, bouncing his legs and tipping his face all the way up to Foggy’s. He sounded vaguely impatient, like he didn’t have time for the grownups to flirt — and Foggy spared a thought to wonder about how weird that probably was. How much had Matthew figured out or guessed about what he and Matt were?

“What are we having for dinner?” Matt asked. He sounded curious again, and his eyebrow was doing that thing that suggested he knew Foggy was up to something.

Foggy just shook his head. “I’ll text you the list.” And just like when he was with his nieces and nephews, he let Matthew grab his arm and pull him toward the stairs. “I shook my head by the way,” he called out.

He heard Matt laugh as Matthew started to feel his way up the stairs, and Foggy left him to it to get the door.

Once on the roof, Matthew stopped moving forward in that overly tight and controlled way he did and tilted his head back with his mouth slightly open. Like earlier, he turned his head in every direction to hear everything while Foggy took in the view.

“I actually live here?” The awe in Matthew’s voice was mixed with a longing that Foggy wasn’t sure he’d ever heard before. Somehow, it had never occurred to him that Matt loved this place because it was something he’d wanted, not just for cheap rent and how easy it was to be Daredevil. The kid even looked less on edge.

“Sure do, buddy. I’m not sure if you can tell but there’s an LED billboard that shines right into the windows downstairs. It turns out, being blind comes with some perks like apartments made for you and dirt-cheap rent.”

Matthew smiled at that and he started walking around the roof, closer to the edge. Foggy tried to keep his panic under control, but Matthew wasn’t exactly as capable as Matt was so he trailed after him.

“It sounds different from what I’m used to,” he said, frowning like he was putting a puzzle together. “What does it look like now?” He sounded kind of distracted, and Foggy suspected there was more to this trip to the roof.

“No different from what I remember from when I was a kid. A little cleaner maybe, but it’s still Hell’s Kitchen.” Gentrification was sweeping the city and trickling into the neighborhood, but he was pretty sure nothing could take all the grime, dirt and rust out of the former-slum. “From here you can kind of see my apartment building, and the office where we have our firm is just around the corner of one of these taller buildings. There’s actually a really nice view of all the old architecture, you can see the fancy, artsy stuff they used to pour money into.” He was still getting used to regularly seeing the city from this perspective and Foggy had to admit that he’d never really looked at the buildings around him before he’d adjusted to Matt’s gargoyle tendencies.

Matthew nodded as he listened to the city around him. Foggy could tell from his face that he was listening to something specific, and it was so weird to look at this little kid and see the same mannerisms he knew in his adult best friend.

It was only another minute or so before Matthew turned to him, clearly with something to say. Foggy assumed Matt was out of earshot then.

Matthew was tense again, and Foggy recognized the posture from when he’d first showed up, where he looked prepared to fight at a moment’s notice. Or run away. He was weighing his words carefully.

“What’s up, kid?” Foggy asked, because he knew exactly how this went with his Matt. He guessed this was why they’d come up here.

“It’s a little weird, but I — he — loves you,” Matthew said, his eyebrows bunching together. His mouth tightened as he looked for words. “And, I know you feel the same way, and I think you both know it.” He faced Foggy directly then. “Your hearts sound the same when you’re alone with each other. I can hear it.”

Foggy’s heart skipped a beat then, and his smile was instantaneous, and, more than anything, it felt _right_ like the knowledge clicked into an open place he hadn’t noticed before. He held himself back from pressing for more information, and he also avoided thinking about having his relationship diagnosed by the younger version of his partner in the relationship.

“You don’t seem surprised,” he said carefully. Because Matthew seemed to be taking the information that his future self was with a man incredibly well. Foggy added it to the list of things to talk to Matt about later.

“I…notice boys, too. So I guess I figure that out eventually.” Matthew’s voice was quiet. “Mostly it’s just nice to hear that sound again.”

And yep, he and Matt were definitely talking about this.

Every time the urge struck him, he’d held it back, but now Foggy gave in and looped an arm around Matthew’s shoulder, tugging him into his side like he was one of his nephews.

Instantly, Matthew’s arms came around his middle and he ducked his head against Foggy’s chest. Helpless, Foggy rubbed his shoulder, but it was like today had been conditioning because he didn’t feel his heart breaking this time. He was just warm and happy.

Foggy thought carefully about his wording, trying to emulate Matt’s earlier tone. “You’re totally lovable, you know. I don’t care what anyone ever told you.”

And hadn’t he had an adventure in teaching Matt that. Showing him, proving it over and over again that anger didn’t mean abandonment and fights didn’t mean the end. That love wasn’t based on merit.

Matthew didn’t say anything and Foggy decided it was time to do what he did best.

“The coolest thing about the little rooftop, at least from my perspective, is what you can see beyond the Kitchen. It really does have a great view of Manhattan. And when it’s all lit up at night, you can see other things like the Empire State Building, and the obnoxious glow from Times Square, and you can see exactly where the park is, just a big, empty black spot amid all the lights.”

He saw Matthew’s mouth twitch up at the corners, and his voice was so hesitant when he said, “I don’t know if I’d be able to tell the difference.” He tapped the lens of his glasses.

It was nice to know his terrible sense of humor was a base personality trait.

After a pause, Matthew spoke up again. “I get it. Why he loves you.”

Foggy’s breath caught and he was sure his heartbeat was doing the equivalent. “Thanks for telling me, kid.” Matthew smiled.

 

Matt had gotten back before Foggy and Matthew had come down from the roof, and was relieved to hear that neither one seemed upset. They’d tumbled down the stairs together a few moments later, Matthew breathlessly listing all the things he could sense in the building.

Some of them had been coming from outside or across the street, but Matt hadn’t mentioned it.

When they hit the floor, Foggy’s heartrate picked up in a way it usually didn’t when he looked at Matt. But it was excited, happy, so Matt smiled at him and lifted the arm with the groceries.

And now, the three of them were clustered in the kitchen, Foggy at the stove and the doughy smell and fizzing sound of cooking batter rising around them. Leaning against the counter, Matt bit at his bottom lip to keep from saying anything.

“Now,” Matthew said, just a stutter of hesitation in his voice. Dutifully, Foggy twisted his wrist to flip the pancake and Matt heard a little spatter up on the sides of the pan, but then the pancake bubbled happily as it cooked on its other side.

“Not bad,” Foggy said. “It maybe could have used a little more time, it’s not quite golden brown, more of a tan color, but I’m impressed. This is still a very edible, cooked pancake.”

It had been Foggy’s idea, and after the roof he’d seemed even more excited about it.

“I just think it could be fun to practice with the senses in a new, no-pressure kind of way,” Foggy had explained as he mixed the batter. His voice was cheerful, not weighed down by any of the things Matt might have expected, and he wondered what exactly they’d talked about with their alone time. He knew Matthew had waited until Matt had been far enough away not to hear it unless he tried.

Now, he heard Matthew’s grin and the way his system — heartbeat to twitching muscles — lit up with the praise.   

“How was the roof?” he asked as Foggy scooped more batter into the pan and got to work forming another pancake.

“Really cool.” Matt heard the awe and excitement in his voice, and tried to ignore that he almost couldn’t recognize it. “Foggy explained the view and I could sense everything.” And that, that sound of accomplishment made Matt smile. He sensed Foggy radiating happiness and satisfaction over it, too.

For some reason, despite all of the evidence he had prior to this, Matt hadn’t expected Foggy’s total embrace and acceptance of Matt’s past as he learned just how dark and deep it got. That love always caught him off guard, but if he’d needed more proof, it was what he heard echoing through Foggy’s heartbeat as the tell-tale swish of his hair and the brush of his shirt against his skin told Matt he’d turned around to look at him again.

Matt quirked his eyebrows, and didn’t bother stifling his smile at Foggy’s soft, happy laugh.

With this renewed awareness of his own body, Matt heard his heartbeat’s response to the sound. He’d known, of course, but sometimes concrete, external proof was nice. The sound of his heartbeat matching Foggy’s was the best confirmation he could get.

And though it was a less familiar sound to him, he thought it might be one of his favorites.

“Foggy, now,” Matthew said, and there was a layer of impatience and concern in his voice. Matt re-focused on the dry smell and bitter taste in the air as Foggy sucked in a breath and turned back to the stove to take care of the pancake.

“Okay, both of you can lose the look on your faces. It’s not black or anything, just a little darker brown. Still totally edible,” Foggy assured them.

“Maybe for you,” Matthew replied at the same time Matt said, “That can be yours then.”

“For the love of God, don’t do that,” Foggy said, shuddering a little. “I was just getting over how weird all of this is.” But a deep well of fondness lay under the words, and Matt let his own affection fill his smile.

 ***

In the end, Matthew’s departure was about as big an event as his arrival. One minute, Foggy was entertaining the room with his ability to describe images on a screen, both Murdocks close by. In the next, Matthew suddenly lifted his head with a soft “oh.”

Beside Foggy, Matt frowned and pushed to a sitting position, face zeroed in on his younger self, but he didn’t say anything.

“I should go,” Matthew said, sitting up in his chair and setting down the last half of the pizza slice he’d been eating.

“What are you talking about?” Foggy asked, watching him stand up and fidget with his shirt. Matthew didn’t look like he knew, but he did look sure of it.

“It’s not like I can stay here forever,” he said. “I think I’m supposed to go back to where I came from.”

Matt was still silent, just “watching” Matthew with a quiet look on his face.

“Thank you both for helping me. You had good advice I think I needed to hear.” His face tilted in Matt’s direction and he smiled a little bit. Foggy wanted to say something because Matthew was being cryptic, because it was just a fundamental part of who Matt was, but he couldn’t think of any words or what he even wanted to say.

But he did have manners.

“We’ll walk you to the door,” he said, rising and tapping Matt’s shoulder until he followed him up. Both of them had weird looks on their faces, but he ignored them.

They paused awkwardly at the door, but then Matthew got a determined look on his face that was all too familiar and he leaned forward to hug first Foggy and then Matt. He saw the younger one whisper something and Matt respond by hugging him closer and muttering something back. When Matthew pulled away, his smile was so bright and such a far cry from earlier that Foggy’s heart ached, but in a really, really good way.

“So, I guess I’ll see you later,” Matthew said, unsuccessfully fighting a shitty grin. “Or, you know.”

“Alright, that’s it. Get out of here,” Foggy said. He couldn’t believe Matt had been _born_ with that sense of humor. “That was terrible in too many ways to be allowed.”

Both of them let out bright peals of laughter and Foggy didn’t think he could handle this assault for much longer.

“Do good, kid. You’ll turn out alright,” Matt said, tapping his knuckles against Matthew’s shoulder.

It was with that final blessing that Matthew finally walked through the door and disappeared down the hall. Foggy watched Matt’s face until his eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“Is he already gone?” Foggy whispered, not that it had ever mattered. Matt nodded and he still looked flabbergasted before a wondering smile replaced the surprise. “Okay, so what are the chances that we got visited by an actual ghost of your past?” Foggy would marvel that he had to ask questions like that, but he knew what kind of world he lived in.

“I don’t know…” Matt shook his head in disbelief and slung an arm over Foggy’s shoulders, drawing them back toward his couch. “Let’s not think about it too hard,” he said.

Foggy watched him, the way the lights from outside played off his hair and skin, and, with the chance to think about it, he was struck by how much he loved him, and how proud he was of the person he’d become. They’d both become. Foggy felt like he’d been tested and measured, too.

And they’d passed. And Foggy loved him so much.

Matt must have been thinking along the same lines because he maneuvered a little bit and pulled Foggy around so he could kiss him, one hand firm on the back of Foggy’s neck. They tumbled to the couch and resettled side-by-side without moving apart.

And the way Foggy felt as Matt leaned into him, his constant, steady weight pushing him back into the cushion, was what led him to pull away to take a deep breath. His body must have given some signal, or Matt was just reading his body language, because he lifted an eyebrow and waited for Foggy to speak.

“I don’t know how to say this in any way that sounds grown up, so don’t laugh at me,” Foggy said. Matt’s mouth flickered into a smile before he solemnly crossed his heart. Foggy rolled his eyes, but took it. “I love what we’re doing here with the kissing and sleepovers and stuff and I love you, but we’ve never actually talked about what it means. So, do you want to be my boyfriend or something?” His voice was less steady than he’d have liked and then he re-heard the words. “Fuck, wait, that sounds stupid,” he scrambled as Matt bravely suppressed his laughter.

“Shut up,” he said savagely. “I want this to be official and exclusive and long-term, how else would you label that?” Matt was still grinning because he was terrible. Then he settled against Foggy’s chest again and kissed him long and deep. Foggy settled one hand on Matt’s jaw, the other on his hip and kissed him back, though he’d still appreciate verbal confirmation.

“Yes. Absolutely.” Matt’s hands were framing Foggy’s face and he wore the warm, dopey smile Foggy loved. He pressed in again for a shorter kiss. “And I love you, too. Don’t think I didn’t catch that.”

“I’ve spent all day observing your super hearing in detail, I knew you’d catch it,” Foggy retorted, but it was diminished by the fizzy feeling in his chest, like he’d chugged a whole bottle of pop.

“Thank you, by the way,” Matt replied, fingertips tracing across Foggy’s brow bone and cheek. “I’m glad you were here with me, and that he got to meet you.”

“What happened to begging me to take the out?” Foggy asked.

“Knee-jerk reaction. I know you knew a lot before today, but I don’t ever talk about being that young. That last wall was more solid than the others, I guess. I wasn’t sure I wanted you to see behind it. At least, not yet.” The look on Matt’s face was contemplative and Foggy was motionless, intent on letting Matt have another moment of vulnerability. “It was sort of…more. Than the other things you know about. But you handled it, and that version of me, so well that I guess I stopped worrying what you’d think.”

His face tipped toward Foggy’s and the openness in his expression took his breath away. Foggy kissed him again, soft and slow. He sank into the feeling of it and let Matt do the same. When they needed to breathe, he pressed their foreheads together.

“You don’t have to worry when it comes to me, Matty,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, I know,” Matt replied, and then he was trying to blind Foggy with his smile again.

 ***

On Sunday morning, Matt woke up tangled in his sheets and Foggy. He was warm from all directions, some of it from soft sunlight streaming through his bare window, but most of it was Foggy’s solid presence. An old urge gnawed at him, but he decided he could go to Mass in the evening. He wanted to spend a lazy morning in bed with Foggy curled up against him.

In a little bit he’d get up to make coffee, and they would figure out breakfast and read the paper and explore their relationship. He might offer to take Foggy with him to Mass later and they could go to dinner afterward. And in the meantime, it would be the two of them, like a normal weekend when Foggy slept over.

 Matt smiled and made himself comfortable.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://booksandcoffeeandink.tumblr.com/)


End file.
